


At The Edge Of The Abyss

by plinys



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 13:58:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3898897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She hadn’t even realized anyone else had seen her leave the group until she heard his voice, but of course he would notice her absence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At The Edge Of The Abyss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valkyrierising](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrierising/gifts).



> For a fic swap with the lovely Jaz (which I'm posting today oops) based on the theme of aftermath.

Wanda had walked these streets often as a girl.

She could imagine thousands of days before, not unlike this one, as the familiar paths of a life gone by spread out before he eyes.

Running through the streets as a girl, a soft dress billowing about her, childish laughter, and her mother’s insistence that they ought to slow down-

Protests filling the streets, Pietro’s hand in hers, tugging her towards the front lines where they stood righteously angry against the world-

Red glowing finger tips, screams of terror echoing in her ears-

Today through the streets are silent, nearly empty other than cleanup crews dressed in orange vests, sorting through the wreckage of a place that had once been her home with careful precision.

She absentmindedly tugs at her own vest, the reflective fabric contrasting sharply from the dark red dress she wears underneath it. The rest of her clean up supplies abandoned meters back, as her feet had traced the familiar path, only stopping where the walkway falls away into to the abyss.

The abyss that she helped to put there.

The abyss that took her brother’s life and her city from her all in one day-

 “Miss Maximoff?” Before she can get too lost in her thoughts once more, a voice breaks her concentration asking a question that she cannot even begin to answer, “Are you alright?”

She hadn’t even realized anyone else had seen her leave the group until she heard his voice, but of course _he_ would notice her absence.

They were teammates now, after all.

Wanda turns away from the abyss then, squeezes her eyes shut not even realizing the wetness that had been gathering there until she closes them and turns over her shoulder, “sorry, I was lost in my thoughts again.”

It’s hard to get a read on the synthoid’s face, his mind however would be an open book if she only tried to reach out with her powers. She holds off, respecting the sanctity of their surroundings and his own privacy for a moment. Instead her eyes scan the figure before her, dressed in his own orange vest, though it clashes with his red skin. It makes an almost comical picture.

Why he had come with her to be part of the cleanup crew, when the others had remained behind was something Wanda had yet to determine.

She was here out of duty, out of remorse for the place she had called home all of her life, but his intentions were less clear. She had thought to ask once, on the flight over here, but the question had died on her lips before it had been fully formed, when through the plane’s window she caught sight of the aftermath of their battle.

“Does that happen often,” he asks, in a way that almost seems like curiosity.  

“More often than I’d like.”

He seems to contemplate her words for a moment before offering, “is there anything I could do for you?”

“No, not really,” she says, shuffling her feet in order to kick a rock down the side of the pit, where it rolls down into infinity and blackness.  

“Would comfort food help?”

“What?”

“Comfort food,” Vision repeats, as though saying the word again clarifies anything, “I’ve been doing some _reading_ and studies have shown that eating a favorite food may help soothe weary spirits.”

“Like soup when you’re sick?”

“That actually has more to do with the anti-inflammatory effects of chicken broth, but-“

“There used to be a bakery here,” she says, waving her fingers out in front of her as though she could bring the restaurant back, instead all she gets are ruby red sparks creating a pale imitation of a wall, before even that falls flat, “they would give a Challah loaf to my brother and I every Shabbat, even the times when we could not afford it.”

It had never been a good meal, but it had been something to fill her empty stomach when there had been not enough to go around, she wonders what happened to the owners of the shop now.

Had they made it out during the attack?

Were they going to find a new corner upon which to break their bread?

“I’ve made you sad again,” Vision says and now there’s a frown tugging at his lips, “I apologize, I had not meant to do that.”

“No, it’s – it’s alright,” she replies, rubbing at the wetness in her eyes, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“I _will_ be,” she insists, because even though it hurts now, even though she sees ghosts all around her and wonders if it’s really worth it to push on she knows that she will.

She has to, for everyone else who couldn’t.

Wanda would be strong for them.

“Until then, comfort food would be nice,” she offers, because there’s a low rumbling in her stomach and people trying to put their lives back together that could use every coin she has to offer, “if you help me find my way back a few streets, I think I know a kosher deli that’s still in business?”

“It would be my pleasure, Miss Maximoff.”

“Wanda,” she corrects, not for the first time, and probably not for the last.

At least this time he humors her, repeating, “Wanda,” before offering an arm like some proper gentlemen from the fairytales her mother used to read to her as a child.

She doesn’t believe in those tales, not given all the horrors she’s seen in life, but there’s something about the way Vision holds himself before her that almost makes Wanda want to try and believe in them. Perhaps in another time she might have.

For now though, she slips her arm through his, and tries to put a smile onto her face, before asking, “do you even need to eat?”

“Ah, no,” he admits, a bit reluctantly, his pace faltering slightly for a moment as though being caught in a lie, before continuing as normal, “However, I would enjoy watching you eat your comfort foods and perhaps engage in some form of conversation common to these sorts of occasions, if that’s fine by you?”

“I’m not the best company in the world.”

“That cannot be right,” Vision insists, “you’re an incredibly interesting and intelligent young woman, the ideal sort of company, in my opinion.”

“I’m a mess, a disaster waiting to happen-

“You’re beautiful and incredibly kind,” he corrects, “someone who deserves all the happiness in the world.”

He says it all so simply, as though stating a fact and for a second Wanda freezes in place, unable to bring herself to move forward and continue their line of conversation.

It’s not to say that nobody has ever been so kind to her before, she’s been called beautiful before by men who wanted to lock her away as a thing to admire, but the way Vision says it, makes the whole word seem different. She can sense him, and the edges of her conciseness a warm pleasing presence, in this otherwise dark and ruined city. She reaches out for that warmth now, letting it spread throughout her, the innocent and peace and something that feels almost like adoration.

“Have you been reading up on how to charm women as well,” she asks, hoping to keep her tone light hearted, even though her whole body feels strung tighter than ever.

“I’ve been going off my own instincts. Am I doing this wrong?”

“No, not at all.”

 

 


End file.
